


Ghost

by Tangela



Series: Final Fantasy VII [1]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Dreams, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:14:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23629843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangela/pseuds/Tangela
Summary: Years had passed, and Cloud still found himself chasing phantoms.
Relationships: Sephiroth/Cloud Strife
Series: Final Fantasy VII [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701667
Comments: 2
Kudos: 73





	Ghost

When Cloud was young, before the world had torn him apart and left him to clumsily sew himself back together, he had lived in his own little world. His mother would always have that look on her face when she saw him playing alone, the one that put lines on her forehead.

“Why don’t you play with the others?” she’d say, wringing her hands together in that worried way, the way she did more and more frequently as Cloud grew up.

“I don’t want to,” Cloud would tell her impertinently, little nose in the air. “They don’t want to play my games, so I’m playing by myself.”

His mother would just sigh and let him be. There was no talking to him _(there never is)._ He’d spend days lost in his world of dragons and warriors and saving the world while the other children played hide and seek. He didn’t need them and their silly games.

_You still play by yourself, don’t you, Cloud?_

Cloud had lived in this fantasy world for so long, it was only natural for him to construct an entire life for himself from the memories of someone else. It wasn’t an easy habit to break, after all. He spent most nights staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep, thinking. Life wasn’t the same anymore, now that he was himself again. Whatever that was even supposed to mean. He had to reconstruct himself, relearn who he was, figure out who he was supposed to be. But he liked how he’d been before; the lies, the pretend, it had all been so much easier. So much better. Things always went his way in his head. He liked that.

Nowadays, his thoughts always came back to the same place, no matter what was on his mind. He liked to tell himself that this was _his_ doing. Saving the world had come at a price, and Cloud had paid the most. But then that debt had started years before, when he was young and stupid and thought he knew it all. Every night he’d lie awake and play out a scenario. It always ended with him and Sephiroth and no else. But this Sephiroth didn’t torment him with cruel words, didn’t hurt him like _he_ had; at least, not in ways Cloud didn’t want. He wasn’t exactly kind _(you can only do so much)_ , but he wasn’t as cold, and Cloud knew that Sephiroth, the real Sephiroth, knew nothing else. But even so, he’d tell himself that he reconstructed all of this, not Cloud _(never you)_ , and he had to go along with it. Had to let him into his bed, had to lie there and let Sephiroth take what he wanted from him, had to writhe and moan and gasp in pleasure, because he had no other choice.

_You’re such a good liar, you almost convince yourself._

Cloud wondered sometimes how it would look if someone were to walk in. Would they see him too? Or would it be only Cloud, lost in his own sick little world of make-believe, tangled up alone in his sheets?

Sometimes, afterwards, Cloud would indulge himself a little further, and Sephiroth would fall asleep in his bed; as if it wasn’t bad enough, he had to create some idea of domesticity between them. It wasn’t bad enough that they fucked, after everything Sephiroth had done to him. He could say he had no choice over and over and over _(lies)_ , but this…Cloud had no excuse for this, though that didn’t stop him from trying to make them. The part of him that had idolised Sephiroth, the boy that had worshipped him like a god _(you did)_ , would have followed him to the end of the world _(you did)_ , he wanted this. All he’d wanted was to belong to something. And he did, didn’t he? In this dream world. He belonged to Sephiroth.

_You want to belong to him. If you’re a part of him, you don’t have to worry about who you’re supposed to be._

Cloud reached out, hand hovering over the black wing that lay curled against Sephiroth’s side. He always slept on his front when he stayed _(conjured)_ , Cloud imagined it would be uncomfortable otherwise. It always ended up like this, Cloud so close, but never quite reaching him.

_Wasn’t that how you’d always been?_

Sephiroth stirred, and Cloud immediately let his hand fall, just short, eyes falling shut. Do as you’re told, fall into line, head down. It never left him, even after all these years. He tried to still his mind, knew Sephiroth was too smart to fall for his act _(you’re falling for your own fantasy again)_. The bed creaked as Sephiroth shifted, Cloud could feel him moving closer, closer, trying not to give himself away as gentle fingers traced down his chest, along his scar. _His_ scar. _Their legacy_. Sephiroth had the other half of it: a long, sharp line down his back.

Even before Hojo had laid hands on Cloud and made him into what he was now, they were connected. A scar for a scar. A life for a life. Cloud had taken his life, and Sephiroth made sure he could never live his life without him. Two shadows, destined to chase each other forever. Cloud was desperate to touch it, feel the scar under his fingers, but he could never get close enough. Like the wing. Like every part of him. He wanted to feel him, know that he was there and not just…

_Another lie? Haven’t you told enough?_

Like back then, when he’d found himself watching Sephiroth dress through the crack in the door, in that old inn in Nibelheim. It was something he’d never told anyone, knew how it would sound, but to him, it was special. Important somehow. There was something so human about it, that simple act, something Sephiroth had never been, even before. Cloud cherished that memory, way deep down.

“I know you’re awake,” Sephiroth murmured, breaking the silence, glass shattering against tile.

Cloud opened his eyes, saying nothing, just looking. Capturing every detail, every movement. Taking in as much as he could in the half-light of the room. He had to give himself credit, he looked so real. Just as he had looked before. Back before it had all gone wrong. Before _she_ had torn them apart. The way Cloud wanted to remember him. Perfect, in every way.

_But I gave him to you. You should be grateful._

“Was I that obvious?” Cloud whispered back, and he saw it, the faintest ghost of a smile on Sephiroth’s lips. A lie. Sephiroth had never smiled, not like this. At least, Cloud had never seen it. Never been privileged enough to see it. This was something Cloud had created for himself. An error in the code. Another reason to hate himself.

“I could tell by your heartbeat,” Sephiroth told him in that matter-of-fact tone, fingers gliding back and forth across the scar.

Another lie. Sephiroth couldn’t exist outside of Cloud’s consciousness, he couldn’t be here to watch Cloud sleep.

_But you’ve always been so good at playing pretend, haven’t you, Cloud?_

Sephiroth brought his hand up to Cloud’s face, and he couldn’t help but flinch at his touch. Gods, he felt so _real._ One detail that had always scared him, how human his touch was. That Cloud could conjure such a feeling…It scared him.

On nights like these, Cloud didn’t sleep at all, couldn’t bear to let this image leave. He knew what Sephiroth was, he had seen the monster that lay beneath the cold exterior of formality and regime, but how much was he really letting himself see, when he kept letting him _(conjuring)_ him back into his bed?

He leaned in, hand reaching out again, hovering above Sephiroth.

“You know what will happen,” was all he said.

_You want it to be real._

Cloud took a breath, and brought his hand down. And just like that, Sephiroth was gone. Cloud’s hand hit the mattress with a soft _thump_. So this was why he could never bring himself to touch him, he’d only chase him away. Chasing phantoms, like he always had, even back then. Sephiroth had always been a figment of his imagination, a handsome face that Cloud had built a whole world around. A world that he could be a part of too.

He sighed, drawing his knees up to his chest. He’d be back again, he told himself as he tried to drift into another fitful sleep.

_You always make sure of that._

**Author's Note:**

> Seeing this fandom come to life has been a delight, and I hope to write as much as I can for it. I have a few older fics that I've fixed up, including this one, and hopefully I'll be able to start something new soon.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


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